


Becoming a Crow

by Secrethomeworkassignment



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Gen, Origin Story, cw for suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 07:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20111545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secrethomeworkassignment/pseuds/Secrethomeworkassignment
Summary: A vignette of Zevran’s first assignment





	Becoming a Crow

Zevran held his breath as he padded down the tiled corridor of the mansion on the Calle de los Patrones. So far he hadn’t seen another soul- no guards, no servants, only a small white dog that had snapped at his ankles before running away. He had braced himself to be discovered but no one came. He had received a name and a description from Talav, his guildmaster, who had assured him that this job would go well. Talav wouldn’t have trusted Zevran with anything complex, this was his first mark. Talav would need to be certain he wouldn’t make a mess of it. 

Zevran had trained for years for this, he should have been thrilled to have finally been given the opportunity to prove himself, but he didn’t feel thrilled. He was sweating buckets. He was desperate for a smoke- anything, really, to calm his nerves. Either this went wrong and it all ended today, or this was the start of his real life- a life of respect, wealth, power. He knew he was up for it, it was his body that wasn’t cooperating. Zevran was glad no one else was there to see his hands shaking. His mark might see it, but all being well, she wouldn’t have the opportunity to tell anyone. Zevran was beginning to wonder if the mark was even home, when looked around a doorway and saw her. She was alone in a large, richly furnished bedchamber, sitting at her vanity table, powdering her face. 

Doña Elena Lobo was, as described in the contract, a woman in her early middle age, finely dressed, with long black hair and dark eyes. She saw Zevran in the mirror at the moment he saw her, but she didn’t scream, or even gasp. She simply seemed to size him up before returning to the task at hand. Zevran stood frozen in the doorway- there was no sense in hiding, she had seen him. Besides, even if she cried out, Zevran didn’t think anyone else was home. A moment passed, and Doña Elena finished and closed the gilded powder box with a snap. Zevran could not avoid noting that she was a woman of exceptional beauty, with proud, striking features. This activated in him one or two supremely uncomfortable emotions that he quickly decided should be stowed away for safekeeping and reexamined maybe never. Doña Elena observed him the mirror, her face disclosing very little. 

“Well, don’t just stand there. Come in. I’ve been expecting you.” 

Zevran hesitated, but after taking a moment to evaluate his next move, he entered the bedchamber and sat down on the beautifully upholstered divan Doña Elena had gestured to. Zevran was exceptionally quick on the draw, and he considered that he could reach for his dagger and cut her throat before she ever had a chance to react, but that seemed somehow tasteless. So Zevran obediently sat and folded his hands, looking ahead at the wall to avoid Doña Elena’s bright black eyes. 

“What’s your name?” she asked

“Zevran, Señora.” This was going badly already. 

“Maker, but you don’t look a day older than my daughter…” Doña Elena’s gaze was unavoidable. Zevran looked up and met her eyes and immediately wished he hadn’t. She didn’t look afraid, but she didn’t look like a fool either. She knew why he was here, but her expression was warm… peaceful. A black lace mantilla covered her pinned up hair. Zevran noticed her dress- a black floral pattern, large jungle flowers, woven into cream colored silk. A pair of enormous emeralds set in gold hung from each delicate ear. She reached for a drawer in her vanity and Zevran started, his hand instantly at his dagger, but Doña Elena only laughed and brought out a silver cigar case. 

“Do you smoke?” she asked 

“Why not?” Zevran had to admit that he could use something to help him relax, and gratefully allowed Doña Elena to light him a cigar. It tasted… like money. Nothing like his sad little roll-ups that were usually mostly sawdust anyway. Elena lit one for herself and puffed at it as she gazed into the distance, apparently deep in thought. Zevran felt his whole body decompress as the nicotine hit his system. It was just going to be like this now, there was no point in rushing things. He didn’t know why, and probably shouldn’t have trusted it, but he didn’t think she was going to run. And there was something that was bothering him.

“Señora, I’m just wondering, where are your guards? I just walked in here, I didn’t even see a maid… or nothing. That doesn’t seem normal in a house like this.”

Elena gave a mirthless little laugh, and finally her face betrayed something like resentment. “My husband must have taken the guards with him and given the servants the day off for Satinalia. He’s so generous.” 

Zevran frowned, disturbed by this information. “Is that who hired me? Your own husband?” Elena just smiled and raised her eyebrows. Zevran made a face. “That’s dirty. It's none of my business, really, but I’ve got to know, what happened? Must have been some fight.” 

Elena puffed her cigar and shrugged. “Nothing like that. It’s simple, really, he has another woman.” Elena delicately tapped some ash into a silver bowl. “She’s beautiful, she’s young, and she’s tired of being hidden away. I understand, I remember what it was like- she wants to go to parties, travel, meet important people on his arm. And Xandro wants to keep his cock wet, so, here we are.” 

Zevran didn’t like to think of himself as easily shocked, but this truly did it for him. “That’s crazy, he could divorce you. He could send you away to a convent. This just seems… extreme.”

“My husband is a respectable man. Of course he could divorce me, but there would be a scandal. Better if he can play the grieving widower. That way he won’t lose face.” 

“Doesn’t he care for you at all?”

“I gave him his children, and he cares for them. I’ve served my purpose.”

Zevran’s thoughts were straying in a dangerous direction. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Talav had always told them not to think about it, that they would be giving people only what they had coming, but this was just… wrong. This job had already gone completely off the rails, he figured he may as well take it all the way. 

“Listen, maybe we could work something out. I’ll tell your husband that I sank your body in the Grand Canal. You could get out of here, go to Rivain, or the Free Marches. Who would know?”

Elena shook her head. “Your boss will need to see the body. They’d find out, and when they did, they would kill you. That is guild policy, no?” Elena looked at Zervan. He had gone back to looking at the tile. “I’ve lived my time. You need to live yours. You’ve barely even begun.” 

Zevran could not meet her gaze. “I don’t want to kill you.” 

“Now you listen,” she said, her voice had a hard edge to it now. “I’ve told you a very sad story, but I don’t want you to think I'm innocent in this. I knew what kind of man my husband was. I knew when I married him. Look around you.”

Zevran did so. He looked at the carved mahogany bed with organza curtains that floated like clouds, at the gold mirror, the bottles of Orlesian perfume in front of it. He looked at the exquisite tailoring of Doña Elena’s gown and the jewels that sparkled on her light brown skin. 

“I knew how my husband made his money. The workers on the haciendas that pick tobacco until they drop dead from the heat just to send a few coppers home to their children. I knew, and I didn’t care. I’m in this life, Zevran. All the way in. As much as Xandro is, as much as you are. I always told myself that it was his business, that I didn’t have a choice. That wasn’t true.” Elena paused. “We always have a choice.” 

She opened the drawer in her vanity again, the one where she kept the cigars, and this time took out a tiny glass phial. Zevran’s heart sank. She was going to make this easy for him. 

Elena took Zevran’s hand in hers and with the other lifted his chin, gently forcing him to look at her. Zevran hated it, but he felt certain he was about to cry. 

“I want you to promise me something. If you succeed in this business, if you do what you are told, you will be rich, like me. Enjoy it. But what you feel right now, I want you to save it, and put it away somewhere safe. If you can hold on to that, they’ll never truly own you. And when you are ready to get out, find a way. Not like this, I mean another way.”

Zevran didn’t know what to say, but he nodded. He held back the tears even when she took him in her arms and hugged him. She didn’t give him any time to wallow. 

“One more thing- I know marks don’t usually get to make requests- but if my children find me here, I want to look… nice. Peaceful.” Elena sighed. “My daughter will take this hard. She’s smart. She’s already been fighting with her father about his girl. She’ll figure out what happened and she’ll never forgive him for it. 

“Don Lobo should watch his back, then. Maybe next time I’ll be working for her.” 

This made Doña Elena smile. 

Zevran poured Elena a glass of brandy to wash down the contents of the vial. It didn’t seem painful, quite the contrary. Doña Elena grew drowsy and closed her eyes, never to open them again. Zevran wondered, as she drifted off, where she was going, and who she would see there. 

///

When Aurora found her mother she could almost believe that she was sleeping. She was laid out on her bed, her long black hair unpinned and spread out on her pillow, a single red rose from the garden tucked behind her ear. A candle burned on the bedside table and someone had placed Elena’s chantry amulet, a golden sun on a pink ribbon, around her gently folded hands. All the windows in the room had been thrown open. 

///

Zevran didn’t go back to the Crow house that day. He walked along the Rialto and eventually ducked into the tiny chantry shrine at the end of the Callejon Reina. He waited patiently as an old woman in a black shawl lifted a tiny girl so she could use one thin, beeswax candle to light another among the many stuck in the sand that filled a large brass bowl beneath a portrait of Andraste. When they were finished Zevran waited until they had left the sanctuary to light a candle of his own. It seemed so small and insufficient, but he didn’t know what else to do. 

He arrived home early the next morning, hoping to avoid attention, but Talav was awake and intercepted Zevran before he could make it to the barracks. 

“Zevran, my son, congratulations are in order!” Talav clapped him heartily on the back, keeping his hand there to steer him firmly down the hall. “Come, come to my office, I have something for you.” Waiting in Talav’s office was a gruff looking man in a plain but expensive leather doublet who stood and greeted Zevran with a firm handshake. For a moment, Zevran froze, wondering if this was Don Lobo, but at second glance Zevran felt certain he was only an “associate” here to conduct the Don’s business. Talav sat behind his huge, magnificently carved desk and folded his hands, addressing Zevran. “This gentleman has just informed me of a terrible tragedy that took place yesterday in the house of Xandro Lobo. His wife, poor woman, apparently committed suicide.” A wide grin spread over Talav’s face. The other man spoke up, “Indeed, I’m afraid Doña Lobo had shown signs of an emotional disturbance for some time. My employer did everything he could, but, alas…” The man opened his hands in a gesture of futility before reaching into his doublet to produce a small velvet purse that he placed on Talav’s desk. After a quick look inside to verify its contents, Talav got up to shake the man’s hand before he took his leave. 

When they were alone, Talav leaned back in his chair, beaming at Zevran.“That, my boy, is what I call a job well done. No trace, no indication of foul play. To the world, Don Lobo looks like the long suffering husband to a sick wife, and I avoid any awkward questions from the constable. I’m going to take what would have been their cut and give you a bonus. You’ve earned it. Some of my more senior agents could learn from you- they’ve gotten too flashy. In fact, I’m going to take you somewhere nice tonight to meet your new colleagues. I think you’re going to like them, especially Rinna, she’s a beauty,” said Talav with a wink as he poured two glasses of brandy. Zevran sat motionless in the leather chair across from Talav’s desk, a blank smile fixed to his face as he watched Talav count Don Lobo’s gold. Talav took three of the ten gold pieces and slid them across the desk with a flourish. “Congratulations, my boy. Now you are a Crow.”


End file.
